


show and tell

by verity



Series: tween wolf [13]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship, Gen, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Running, Summer, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 13:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles sighs. "Vacation," he says mournfully to the graphing calculator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	show and tell

**Author's Note:**

> AND HERE WE BEGIN TWEEN WOLF SEASON 2, which falls between Season 2 & Season 3 on the timeline of the actual show, a.k.a. the summer between Stiles and Scott's sophomore and junior years of high school.

The novelty of summer break wears off by the end of the first week.

"We could go running," Scott says, leaning back in the chair at Stiles's desk. "Cross-country in the fall, dude. Gotta stay in shape."

"Ugh." Stiles says. He's lying across his bed, head dangling over the edge. "This is supposed to be vacation, dude. We could… go camping? Play more Halo? I don't know."

Scott tosses Stiles's graphing calculator at him: it hits Stiles square in the stomach and he curls in with an exaggerated groan. "Lydia's having a party tonight," Scott says. "Come on, it could be fun. You might not puke this time."

While that wasn't the most humiliating night of Stiles's life, it's definitely in the top ten. Stiles feels like he and Long Island Iced Tea could have had a great relationship, but you can't really come back from that kind of trauma. "I'm touched by your faith in my ability to handle liquor, dude, but I think I'll pass."

"You could work on—stuff." Scott gives him a meaningful eyebrow wriggle. " After we go running."

Stiles sighs. "Vacation," he says mournfully to the graphing calculator.

—

They take the long way through the Preserve, the path that puts them furthest from the Hale woods. Stiles has grown into his long legs and scrawny frame, and he's almost able to keep up with Scott now, even though Scott's an all-star athlete and a _werewolf_. Of course, Stiles has gotten in a lot of practice between full moon nights and the suicides Finstock's always making them run. At the top of the hill that overlooks the town, they stop for a few minutes; Stiles flops on the big rock by the summit, panting, while Scott lolls on the ground in the sun, barely out of breath.

"Bet you make first line next year," Scott says. "You're getting better."

"If I don't die first." Stiles stretches, pointing his feet toward town and pushing his arms towards the Preserve. "You're killing me, man, we're not training for a marathon."

"We could, though," Scott says, voice brightening. "We could _own_ a marathon."

The sky overhead is a ridiculous, perfect shade of blue, and the sun's already moved behind the trees, so Stiles can stare straight up at the clouds. "Low profile," Stiles reminds Scott. "Laura—"

Scott grunts. "Yeah, I know. Race you back to the Jeep? Loser buys ice cream."

"Hmm, I don't know," Stiles says, rolling on his side as Scott gets to his feet. "I think the winner should cough up some gas money."

Scott gives Stiles his best puppy face, and then he's off, dashing into the woods with an extremely unfair head start.

—

"You can go annoy Isaac," Stiles suggests, sifting through the contents of the box under his bed. "I haven't found anything new yet, and Deaton still won't let me look through his books."

Deaton's not exactly his teacher, and Stiles isn't exactly Deaton's student. Still, he's the best resource Stiles has for this stuff aside from his grandma, and she mostly sends him cookie recipes and suggestions that he forget about all this stuff, or at least not play around with anything that could set him on fire. Grandma is very suspicious of Deaton's magic, but, to be fair, so is Stiles.

Scott has a more positive opinion of Deaton, but Deaton pays Scott to play with puppies multiple times a week. He's totally got Scott snowed.

"I think Isaac's dad is being—you know. He won't answer his phone." Scott frowns, then leans forward to sniff the air. "Dude, do you have wolfsbane in there?"

"It's for emergencies," Stiles says primly. "Are you going to help? Or do you just want to critique my satin stitch?"

"Let me _see_ ," Scott says.

The sampler Stiles is currently working on is still embarrassingly plain, just the Russian alphabet, one of his short names, and the year. He'll surround it with flowers and herbs eventually, when he's picked the right ones and the best stitches to set in his intent. Stiles spreads the linen over his lap, lets Scott touch the finished letters and run his fingers over the penciled outlines of where the next ones will be. There's magic here now, but not much; everything Stiles has done so far is practice for the real thing.

Scott's a werewolf; he's a supernatural creature, not a magic worker, and the one time he attempted to pick up a needle and thread left Stiles laughing for hours. The bond between them means that he can help Stiles, though, pushing that spark to a flame from an ember. Someday, Stiles might be able to do that all on his own, but he's not there yet.

"Okay, show and tell is over," Stiles says, reaching over to the box for an embroidery hoop. "I want to get to щ sometime today."

"Wii me?" Scott holds up his hand, because he's apparently too lazy to use his werewolf strength to move over two feet. "I'm feeling Mario Kart."

Stiles tosses him the Wiimote.

—

They order a pizza after Stiles finishes up for the night; the doorbell rings twenty minutes later.

"That's fast," Stiles says, pausing their game.

**Author's Note:**

> let me dispel SOMEONE's crackpot theory: Derek Hale is not the delivery guy.
> 
> I'm [ladyofthelog](http://ladyofthelog.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
